


In which Scrooge is better with both emotions and children

by Overly_Obsessive_Band_Geek



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Donald and Scrooge make up, Fluff, Gen, Louie has a pacemaker, Pre-Canon, Scrooge helps raise the triplets, and also children, early on, he's mildly better with emotions, scrooge has a heart, the triplets as younger children, will probably carry on into canon though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-05-25 01:03:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14965742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overly_Obsessive_Band_Geek/pseuds/Overly_Obsessive_Band_Geek
Summary: I mean, you read the title hopefully. Jk.Scrooge helps raise the triplets because he makes up with Donald much sooner after everything happens. Beyond that there isn't much plot.





	1. #1

Scrooge waited a week after everything happens, and then he emailed Donald. The triplets are set to hatch soon, so he doesn't bother inviting him on an adventure, just asks if it would be okay for him to be there. The way they left things was wrong, he tells him, but he wants things to be better. He doesn't want to lose more family then he already has, he says. He knows he isn't the best with emotions, but he bares himself a lot in that email. He waits anxiously for a reply, only eating when his new housekeeper, Mrs. Bentina Beakley, shows up to drag him away from the computer and to the kitchen table. He'd be mad, but her doing things like this is what he's spending his hard-earned money on.

He feels bad for worrying her, but even worse for the last interaction he had with Donald. So he goes back to his office and sits by the computer until finally, finally, a response shows up in his inbox. It's late at night, yes, but it shows up! It says yes, he can come, and when he reads that he whoops and hollers, nearly dancing around the room. Then he reads the rest, and so apparently they both feel guilty for how things ended, both want to make up for it. He's never been happier to have taken the first step towards something. Finally able to sleep now, he moves to his room and conks out on his bed. The next day, he informs everyone that he will be gone from work for at least a week, starting soon. He has precautions in place so that he won't lose money, but it still makes him antsy to be away from the fortune he's built for so long. But. He cares about his family more, even if it's taken him this long to realize it. 

He shows up to the tiny apartment Donald owns a few days later, when they think the triplets will hatch. Privately, he thinks it's much too small to house four people, three of whom are children, but he keeps his mouth shut. Money is tight for his nephew, and he knows the boy won't accept help unless he has no other choice. Otherwise, no matter how stingy he might be, he would help him out.  But this isn't the time to whine about his nephew inheriting his traits. So he knocks on the door, and when he does, Donald appears and opens it quickly, ushering him into the cramped place.

"Come in, come in. One of them- Huey- his egg has already started to crack!" The boy is excited, eyes brimming with love, and regardless of who else should be here right now, Scrooge can tell this will be a tender day. His nephew carefully closes the front door, leading him through the apartment, to the tiny bedroom, where three carefully swaddled eggs are tucked onto his bed. He looks around, and he can see birth certificates and everything else they'll need after hatching on top of Donald's dresser. He returns his gaze to the eggs, moving closer. He smiles at them, softly. Then, he pauses before deciding to say what he's thinking:

"Ye've done a good job with 'em, laddie." He holds out his wings for a hug, but is still surprised when his offer is taken up, the younger man lunging into his arms. The hug is tight, filled with all of the things they still haven't said. Haven't even had time to say, really.  

"Thank you, Uncle Scrooge." Donald mutters as he pulls back, looking sheepish now. He shrugs, feeling awkward himself, and turns to look at the eggs. Sure enough, he can see a crack in the one swaddled in red. One of them is far tinier than the other two... He vaguely remembers...their mother... talking about names, but it escapes him what they were...

"What're they names? Ay'm afraid ay can't quite remember..." He asks cautiously, watching as one of them, the blue one, shifts just a little.

"Oh, of course! The one with the red blanket is Hubert, the one with the blue is Dewford, and the one with the green is Llewelyn. Huey, Dewey, and Louie for short. " Donald explains, rubbing at the back of his neck. Scrooge sighs, knowing they're both remembering the triplet's mother. 

"They're good names." He offers, despite knowing Donald hadn't chosen them.

"Yeah..." his nephew responds, reaching out and resting a hand on the egg that he had yet to see move, Llewelyn's. Worrisome, that. Hubert's egg rolls in it's blanket, the crack in it widening. As if in response, Dewford's shifts again, and a sharp crack is heard as a hairline fracture appears at the top. Donald straightens up, seeming to become tense as things seem to start speeding up. Scrooge sits down by to the eggs on the far side of the bed, next to Llewelyn's, but still watching the other two with sharp eyes. All was quiet for a few minutes, before he broke the silence.

"Thank yew, for letting me be here." He says, trying to impress into his voice just how grateful he is to be here for this. Donald looks up, quietly speaks.

"I...yeah. You should be here, though, it's your right." He says, not looking at him but watching the eggs instead. He smiles a little, ruefully, in response. But before either of them can speak again, Dewey and Huey's eggs start moving again, both of them. But Llewelyn's is yet to move, still and quiet. He frowns, reaching out to it, looking to Donald who nods, and then hesitantly picks it up, cradling the tiny thing to his chest. It's smaller than the others, and he feels his throat constrict with worry. They've already lost so much, they can't possibly lose him too... While the other two eggs are cracking more, Huey's just a little faster, he can barely feel Llewelyn shifting within his. Time passes, neither he nor Donald moving as two of the eggs shake and crack, inhabitants ready for the world.

Eventually Scrooge shifts, pressing the tips of his fingers to the egg, relieved to feel the gentle tick of Llewelyn's heartbeat within. He relaxes just a little, but he well knows this isn't the end of the woods, not by a long shot. The egg has warmed up a little while he's been holding it, but nothing else has changed. Meanwhile, Hubert seems just about ready to emerge into the world, with Dewey only a few paces behind. It doesn't take long, and then Huey is sitting there surrounded by shell, starting to cry quickly after. Donald, who was sitting by the birth certificates, quickly writes down the birth time. Then he leans forward, picking him up gently, as Dewey's beak pokes out of his shell. Still worried, Scrooge sets Llewelyn back into his brilliantly green blanket as Dewey appears. He looks over to the clock, hurrying over to write down the birth time, seeing how busy his nephew is. But before the old man can pick Dewey up he starts screeching, loud and piercing. He picks him and the baby blue blanket up, holding the infant to his chest and rocking side to side, standing up so he doesn't jostle the small egg still left. Across the room, Donald is doing the same, but Huey's crying has already stopped.

"Ay, little lad, ye're okay, nothing is going to happen. Shush, lad." He mumbles, muttering a comforting litany as he moves from one end of the bed to the other, pacing and bouncing the fluffy infant. Eventually he calms down, and he wipes him off gently with a towel Donald had set out on the dresser, wraps him in a diaper, then settles down to stare at the tiny infant, in awe. This tiny child is his great-nephew. He kisses the top of his head, before looking to his adult nephew, who had already gotten a bottle into Huey's mouth.

"Do yew got another one a those?" He asks, letting Dewey suck on the tip of his finger for a second. Donald nods, gesturing to the bed where it's set. Scrooge laughs a little, feeling sheepish that he didn't see it earlier. He fits the nipple to the kid's mouth, watching him suck down the formula for a second. Sudden burst of energy in the room over, he looks over to Llewelyn's egg, which hasn't moved throughout it. Worry overtakes him again. What if...no. He can't think like that. As if in response, though, the egg shifts slightly, and a few moments later a crack appears in it. His shoulders sag with relief.

"Donald, little Llewelyn's on his way!" He exclaims, still trying to be quiet.

"Wha-?" Donald asks, leaning over to look at it and breaking into a grin when he sees it. The relief in the room can practically be felt, it's so obvious. They both sit there, watching the egg, and Scrooge almost forgets tiny Dewey is still eating until the chick hiccups and his attention is dragged back to him. He shifts him up, patting him on the back to burp him. He hasn't spent time around little tykes like these in a long while, but muscle memory is still getting him through this. Well, mostly, he still has to focus while shifting the chick around. Meanwhile, Donald seems to be struggling far more with Huey, even though so far the infant has been mostly silent and amenable. Dewey squawks a little after a loud burp, and he smiles at the kid. 

"Scared yerself there, did yew?" He asks, making sure to keep his voice gentle and low. The chick squawks again, quieter this time, and he laughs. He forgets, sometimes, how much fun kids can be, especially if you don't have to watch them full time. But, well. He hopes to be in the lives of these kids full time. 

It doesn't take Dewey long to fall asleep, and after that he wraps him up in the blue blanket Donald had set out,  carefully positioning him on the bed so he would be safe. There are a couple more cracks in Llewelyn's egg now, and it fills him with hope to see. He looks up, though, to see his nephew still struggling with Huey, so he gets up and moves around to them.

"Ay can take him, if ye'd like." He offers, almost laughing when Donald nods quickly, holding the oldest chick out to his uncle. He takes the kid, cradling him and watching as bright blue eyes stare back at him. Donald is busy staring at the egg that has yet to hatch, so Scrooge lets himself be distracted by his great-nephew. It isn't long before the infant falls asleep, beak slapping together a few times before he goes still. 

 

* * *

 

 

It takes longer than either Donald or Scrooge are comfortable with for Llewelyn to hatch, a couple hours after the first crack appears. When the terrifyingly tiny chick finally appears, Donald takes a step back, looking towards his uncle. He pauses before talking, staring back at the mostly still and silent infant. They can see him breathing, but that's about it. 

"You should take care of him right now, you're better with kids than I am." He says. Usually, Scrooge would argue, insist on Donald being the one to do this, but he can't help but feel time is of the essence here, so he doesn't. He picks Llewelyn up, sighing with something like relief when the chick turns into his hand, and then his eyes blink open. All of a sudden he's staring into Della's eyes, in an infants face. Sure, the other two had blue eyes, but not the exact same as their mother. He can barely stop a gasp, reaching for a towel and carefully wiping him off, being as careful as he can with the tiny chick. He pauses to suggest it, but eventually forces the words he needs to say out.

"I know you didnae wanna take them to the hospital, but I think we may wanna bring Llewelyn to a doctor. Ay...ay'm really worried about him... He's barely even moved." Most birds aren't born in a hospital, it isn't really needed, but Llewelyn is really scaring him. Donald sighs, staring at his tiny nephew, who lets out a worryingly weak cry.

"Yeah... You're right... We should probably leave as soon as possible, meaning now." Donald elaborates, turning to stare at the three car seats lined up by the wall.

"Yeah..." 

 Somehow they get there with all three triplets still quiet, although Huey does seem to be awake. Scrooge picks up tiny Llewelyn and his birth certificate, then moves into the hospital quickly, trusting that Donald will follow once he can. Birds don't usually head to a hospital for births, and it feels wrong just being in the building with such a tiny child, but he knows better. He knows they'll be able to help, fix whatever is wrong with this tiny child, despite his misgivings. So he chokes the words he needs out through his beak, worry trying to keep him quiet.

They're shown to a room, and almost before they enter it, Llewelyn is pulled out of his arms, tiny form still barely moving. He swallows, answering the questions of the doctor and nurse, holding his cane with both hands. 'You should be here, Della. Your son needs you.' He thinks sadly, watching them with his grand-nephew. Donald shows up after not much longer, the other two chicks tucked into his arms. He seems to think something over, before pressing Huey into his arms and squeezing his shoulder. It's weird, for Scrooge, to be comforted by the nephew he's been taking care of for so long, but the gesture is genuine, so he only gives him a small, worried, smile in return. The room is mostly quiet, until the doctor turns to them, writing down something on a clipboard. 

"We have a suspicion of what is going wrong, but we will have to perform an EKG to confirm it, and we need your permission for that." He informs them, voice measured and professional.

"An EKG?" Scrooge asks, glancing around the doctor to the infant, who'd briefly started waving his hands around in the air.

"Oh, sorry sir. It's an electrocardiogram. It will measure his heart rate and show it to us." He explains, seeming like he's trying to be reassuring. Donald speaks up, nodding slightly. 

"Yes, you can." 

 

* * *

 

 

Heart block. Little Llewelyn, Della's youngest son, has heart block. The doctors want to fit him with a temporary pacemaker tonight, and, well, they can't really say no when the alternative is his life being in constant danger, probably not even surviving to toddlerhood. So they say yes, and then they have to take the children out of the hospital, back to Donald's apartment. But one of them is going to stay, and even though he'll be the first to admit he wants to stay here overnight, he tells Donald to stay, and takes care of the children for the night. They wake up often, sure, but besides that taking care of them is relatively easy. Afterall, at this age, children barely do anything at all. He takes care of them for the night, and as soon as he's managed to get a full two hours of sleep in a row, he's on his way to the hospital with the chicks in tow. He almost can't resist stopping by his downtown offices on their way there, and it's only the sudden squalling of Dewey from the backseat that convinces him not to. They get there, but before he can cart them inside he has to feed the still mildly upset middle child, who glares at him right up until he gets the bottle into his mouth. Meanwhile, Huey is asleep again, clutching the red teddy bear that was laying on top of him. 

Eventually, he gets himself, the chicks, and their bags up to Llewelyn's room, knocking on it with his foot because he doesn't have a free hand. Donald opens it, and the bags under his eyes are worse than the ones under Scrooge's. He moves into the room, and sets the bags down, moving to the hospital bed and arranging the infants on it, making sure to wrap their blankets around them. It pulls a chuckle out of him to see Huey still holding on tight to that stuffed animal. Once the two sleeping kids are situated, he turns to his nephew, who looks like he might fall asleep on his feet. 

"How is he?" He asks, looking around the room and seeing nothing that indicates Llewelyn had been moved into this room since last night. 

"He was okay after they put the- the pacemaker in, but he's in the NICU now. The, um, the Neonatal, Intensive Care Unit, they said it stands for?" He answers, rubbing at one his eyes, a feather falling off his wing. 

"Ah, okay. Did ye get any sleep las' night?" Because bad with people or not, he doesn't want anything else bad to happen to this family. His nephew winces, rubbing at the back of his neck now.

"No..."

"Then get some now. I'll wake ye if anything happens." It's less an offer than an order, but Donald just nods, curling up on the bed next to the swaddled ducklings. He smiles down at the three. Even if Llewelyn isn't here right now, this is a nice moment. He likes it. Shaking his head at his own sentimental thoughts, he sits down in the chair by the bed, leaning back and pulling his hat over his eyes. He doesn't plan on falling asleep right now, but getting some rest at least would be nice. The room is silent except for the four of them breathing, and he lets his mind wander.

After what feels like only a couple minutes, a knock comes on the door. Scrooge gets up to answer it, checking the time and surprised to see it's been almost an hour since they got there. On the other side is a doctor. A different one from yesterday, he thinks. He steps out into the hallway, forcing the roster back and closing the door behind them. He looks Scrooge up and down, appearing shocked to see the richest duck in the world in front of him.

"Um...I was expecting Mr. Duck..." He finally says.

"Ay made sure he'd get some sleep, he was up all night worrying over Llewelyn. Now, what'd ye need?"

"Ah, yes. It was about... Llewelyn." The doctor-  Dr. Hardee, he noticed now- replied, stumbling over the name. Figured, with Americans.

"Ay, what about him?"

"Nothing bad. We just wanted to let you know he's ready for visitors now. I do want to let you know, though, that you won't be able to touch or hold him. It's too dangerous, after the pacemaker implant." He elaborates, still looking uncomfortable. Well, he should be. 

"Okay. Ay'll go wake Donald, and then he'll go see him." He answers, reaching out for the door handle. The doctor doesn't say anything, so he goes back inside, shutting the door before he can be followed in. It isn't that surprising to him that Donald is already awake, looking at least slightly better now. 

"That was the doctor who just came by. He said Llewelyn's ready for visitors, but that we will nae be able to touch o' hold him.  Ay told him ay'd wake yew up and tell ye about it, so ye could go see him."  He explains.

"You're letting me go see him first? You could have just gone by yourself and left me here." His nephew says, looking confused. 

"The thought did go through me mind, ah'll admit, but it's you're right more'n mine." He admits, looking at the ducklings on the bed instead of Donald.

"It is your right, don't you know that? You're his uncle too." The other man says, still seeming confused. Scrooge shrugs, not wanting to talk about it anymore.

"Ay, but... Just go see 'im already." Again it's almost an order, but he's obeyed anyway, the sailor leaving the room quickly. Meanwhile, the old man sets about to taking care of the freshly awoken Huey.

 

* * *

 

 

A couple of weeks later, during one of the rare times both Donald and Scrooge are at Donald's tiny apartment, his nephew corners him in the kitchen. Hubert and Dewford are asleep in the bedroom, so for a rare few minutes it's just the two of them. 

"I need to talk to you about something." He says, but it's the seriousness with which he says that stops the adventurer in his tracks.

"Ay lad, whadda yew need?" He doesn't like being cornered, feels like he's in danger even though he isn't. His nephew just sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"I- I have something I have to insist on. Please don't take offense at it, it's not about you, I just want to be- safe." He sounds nervous.

"Ay, okay. But what is it, lad?" He prods again.

"I-" His nephew sighs again, "I have to insist that you don't take them on any adventures until they're at least ten, please. And...I won't be going on any, either. I'm going to stay here to take care of them. I'm sorry, and like I said, it's not about you, I just want to be safe, and if anything happened to them...I  really don't know what I'd do." He finishes, drumming his fingers on the counter. 

"Okay. Adventure may be important, but it isnae worth their childhoods. Yew can do as ye see fit." Scrooge admits, because if he's honest he doesn't know what he'd do either. But the one thing he isn't expecting is to be rushed and wrapped in a hug by his nephew. He flounders for a second, before returning it tightly. The thought crosses his mind, unbidden, that maybe they'll be at least partially able to heal from everything that happened. But just as the hug ends there's a knock on the door, and they both turn towards the living room. 

"Were we expectin' anyone?" He asks, moving towards the front door until he hears a squawk from the bedroom. 

"Ay'll get the young-uns, yew can get the door." He offers, moving to the tiny room. He's unsurprised to see Dewford has knocked his stuffed animal and blankets off of him. Picking the duckling up, he hums lightly. As he takes care of the chick, he hears a semi-familiar voice from the living room. Gladstone Gander, he recognizes after a beat. He isn't aware that at the sound he's clutching Dewey tighter until the duckling squawks in discomfort, tugging on his shirt. He loosens his grip immediately, feeling guilty. He runs his finger tips through the kid's feathers. 

"Didn't think you'd be here, old man." The lazy man says as he and Donald appear in the doorway of the bedroom. It's a small comfort to see his nephew looks just as discomforted as he feels. 

"Thought you two had some big fight." The goose continues, leaning over and cooing at Hubert, who starts whimpering at the stranger in his space. Donald grumbles under his breath, moving forward and picking the chick up carefully. 

"It isnae important, lad." He grinds out instead of following his instincts and kicking this man out of his nephew's house. He's never liked the kid, but Hubert barely even whines, and the babe is starting to cry now, as Gladstone follows the two out of the room. He harrumphs, following them. 

 

* * *

 

 

Between taking care of Hubert and Dewford, running his business, and visiting Llewelyn at the hospital, the next five months pass faster than Scrooge thought they would have. The ducklings are growing fast, personalities starting to emerge, and he will freely admit it's a brand new type of terrifying. By the time he'd met Donald and Della for the first time, they were already almost teens, personalities molded and formed. But now, well, these kids. He actually has an effect on who they'll end up being. It's scary. Thinking of that, it's also scary that Dewey has  started crawling already. It's early, and heaven help Donald when he's trying to watch all three of them by himself. 

"Your brother comes home today. That's right, Llewelyn's home today." He coos, placing Huey into his bouncer and smiling at the chick. Dewey squawks from his own,  unfailingly the loudest of the three. There's a ding from the oven, and he moves to get his sourdough bread out of the oven. He'd used the same starter as always, and he was ready to sit down and eat something. But first he had to feed Huey and Dewey. He's mostly done with that when the front door to his nephew's apartment creaks open, and there's the man himself, still carrying Llewelyn's car seat. He comes in, and then sits down heavily on the couch, sighing. He fusses with Louie's straps, pulling him out of the seat and into his lap.

"Does he need food?" Scrooge asks, shifting to burp Huey, who fists his hands in the old explorer's coat. 

"Probably." His nephew answers, holding his own nephew in front of him, just staring at him in awe. 


	2. # 2

Time passes quickly when you're having fun, but it also passes incredibly quickly when you're always busy. These days, Scrooge is always busy. He goes on adventures, and while it's only ones that rarely have the right conditions, the rest of his life still keeps him occupied. Watching and helping to raise the triplets, running his business, and all the other little things he has to do gives him little room for lounging around and doing nothing. But that's never something he's been fond of in the first place, so a busy lifestyle suits him.

He's jerked out of his thoughts by Louie tugging on his sideburns, and he winces, trying to gently pry the tiny fingers out of his feathers. The duckling squawks when he does that, holding on to his coat even tighter in response. He sighs, rubbing his fingers through the soft feathers on top of the infant's head. His reward is a soft chirp and a nuzzle into his chest, making him smile. The chick is still smaller than his brothers, but quickly catching up to them. He watches him babble, the thought crossing his mind that he's so glad he reached out to his nephew. He'll never be able to explain how important his family is to him. It's regrettable, though, that it took him so long to fully realize it. 

"Scrooge? You still here?" He hears Donald call out from the hallway. It's followed by the sound of him bumping into the wall. 

"Aye lad, ah'm still here. How'd yew like yer sleep?" He teases, looking up from the baby on his chest. The sailor grumbles something, grabbing up his coffee cup from hours ago. 

"Would've liked it to be longer, but Dewey woke me up needing a diaper change." He finally answers, holding the now empty mug. 

"That's what ye get for not letting me watch all three of the wee ones while yew took yer nap." Scrooge retorts, no actual venom in his voice. His nephew rolls his eyes, looking to where the adventurer is rocking Huey's seat with one foot. 

"Is Dewford asleep again, then?" He questions, watching his nephew stare blearily at his coffee cup. 

"Yeah, he was up all night, so he passed back out pretty quick." 

"Good luck with him tonight." He offers back, leaning down to pull Hubert into his lap, the chick having started to shift around in his seat. Once he's settled, the duckling starts babbling too, and he's stuck holding two talkative children. Not that he minds. He'll do almost anything to spend time with his family now. Speaking of, he wishes he could convince Donald to move in with the triplets to his mansion, but he understands why his nephew doesn't want to. It's the same reason he's locked off an entire wing of the building. He catches a whiff of a sudden stench, and wrinkles his beak, looking at Huey. 

"Need yer diaper changed, do ye lad?" He asks, groaning and tucking Llewelyn into the bouncer as Huey just keeps right on babbling. He's usually the quietest, but once he starts he just doesn't stop. He changes the chicks diaper. Then he stands up straight, cracking his back. 

"Yew three take a lot out of me and your unca' Donald, you hear?" It's mostly a joke, but he laughs when he hears said man agree from where he's fixing more coffee. He'll have to have some of that. A cry from the bedroom interrupts his thoughts, and and he sighs.

"Ah'll get him, you can stay out here with Hubert and Llewelyn." He calls to his nephew, heading back to where Dewey is squawking with little hesitance. 

 

* * *

 

Donald knows he should be thankful for any help he gets with the triplets, but well. Scrooge is one thing. They'd made up, mostly, and for the largest part their relationship had recovered. It would never be the same as it was in the past, but it could come close. But his cousin is an entirely different story. Gladstone helps, sure, and it's highly likely he doesn't mean any harm, but every time he comes around, he can barely contain his anger. Gladstone just always ticks him off. But he keeps coming back, and the triplets seem to like him, so he can't do anything unless he gets an actual reason to. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem probable. So he lets it happen and grumbles with Scrooge once his cousin leaves. But the old man always reminds him that the triplets deserve to have their family around, and he's right.

None of that stops him from glaring at his lucky cousin as he dotes on Dewey. Meanwhile Scrooge is laughing at both him, and the man who's clearly never spent time around children before the ducklings hatched. 

"Um, Donald, what's he doing?" Gladstone asks as Huey grabs onto his leg, using it to stand up quicker. 

"Standing?" He responds, not totally trying to be snarky but also not mad if it comes out like that. His cousin rolls his eyes, leaning down to let Huey wrap his hands around his fingers. But while that's happening, Dewey forces him to put him on the ground, crawling towards Scrooge, who's sitting on the couch, surrounded by paperwork. Meanwhile, Llewelyn is content to just sit there, looking around and occasionally babbling to himself. As much as he can't stand Gladstone, it's nice to have an extra set of hands around. Especially now, when he's trying to fill out job applications and get back into the workforce. He's well aware Scrooge will help with anything he needs, but that doesn't mean he wants to rely on his family's charity. 

"There ye go, lad. Yew all set now?" The adventurer asks Dewey, setting him on his lap and just continuing to work. It's nice to see him interacting with his great-nephews. He might never have had children, but he certainly knows how to work with them. It's nice to see the old man be as soft as he is around them. 

"What do I do if he falls over, cuz?" Gladstone asks, both hands going out to help Huey balance as he waddles in a circle around him. 

"Help him up and let him whine? It won't be the first time. That's what he gets for figuring out walking first." He complains, looking up from the form in his lap. The other man grimaces at that, not looking satisfied with the answer but not speaking up again. Before Huey had started walking he'd tried to make everything as safe as possible, but after that he'd been unable to keep up with it. He sighs, looking back at the paper he's almost done with. He'll have to bring it in tomorrow, while he runs errands. It's a good thing the other applications can be faxed in. He'll have to be out of the house long enough for the interviews. He looks back up, and takes a deep breath so he doesn't say anything bad to his cousin. His nephews deserve their family, he reminds himself. He can do this for them. Wow, he sounds like some action movie's main character. 

Not that long after, Gladstone's phone rings, and he leaves after taking the call. Donald sighs, putting his papers aside. He's only got one left, it can wait while he's with his nephews. Huey is holding onto the folding coffee table, giggling at something. He kneels next to him, smiling when the duckling reaches out for his wings. He helps him stay up without wobbling, talking to him quietly. The boy waves one hand around, before grabbing his wing again. Suddenly Scrooge huffs from where he's surrounded by paperwork, folding one piece of paper neatly. 

"What's up with that?" He asks, turning to look at him. The adventurer groans, pulling Dewey back from where he's trying to climb onto the back of the couch. 

"The board wants to cut the amount of money we've got going to exploring research. Say ah don't need as much as ah've got, but it's my money and ah'll dahmned if ah let them change me mind." The man complains, helping Dewey stand up on his lap. Louie catches sight of his brother, and starts reaching for him, babbling. Laughing, Scrooge kneels down onto the ground next to him, setting Dewey down on the ground too. 

"I mean, you're right, it is your money, if you refuse the cuts there isn't much they can do." He offers, walking Huey over to his brothers carefully. It's a wonder the other two haven't also started walking yet, but he's grateful for it. Now if only Dewey would stop trying to climb everything. 

"Ye, that's true. There ye go, Llewelyn, yer brothers." The older duck says, rubbing his wing through the fluff on top of Louie's head. 

 

* * *

 

"Ba! Babababa." The duckling in green cried out, reaching out for the ball Huey had accidentally kicked away from the three. Donald sighed, rolling it back to them. Dewey squawked, grabbing at it. Scrooge had a meeting this morning, but as soon as he was out he was headed to the apartment so his nephew could go to a job interview. He had offered up the mansion for the day, but Donald had declined, not feeling comfortable going back there. So now he's stuck waiting for Scrooge to get there, already dressed up for the day. Not that he's late, there's still time before he's even supposed to be here. Donald is just tired from staying up all night with two still teething infants and one who couldn't sleep without his brothers near him. He loves his nephews, wouldn't hesitate to say it in the slightest, but he can't wait until they're old enough to sleep through the night. That'll make his life a bit easier. A knock on the door comes, and he calls out that it's open. 

"Ah'm here, Donald, ye can go to yer interview now." Scrooge's voice rings through the apartment, the sound of his cane tapping on the floor following it. 

"Thank you for agreeing to watch them." He says as the miser reaches the living room, standing up and brushing some wrinkles out of his coat jacket.

"Ah said ay'd do anything for 'em, this is nothing." Is the answer he gets, alongside a pat on his shoulder. He shakes his head, chuckling and heading out the door. Time to try and get a job for these kids.

Scrooge watches his nephew leave, then goes to sit next to the three ducklings. Llewelyn reaches out for him when he does, and he indulges the chick with a smile, letting him grab at his wings. Meanwhile, Dewford climbs over him, chasing after the ball the three must have been playing with before he got there. He leans over, grabbing the ball and handing it to the duckling, who squawks and pats his foot. He laughs, keeping an eye on Hubert as he edges along the couch, walking back and forth.

"Already pacing, are yeh?" He asks, knowing the child isn't capable of talking yet. But it's still funny to see him picking up on his uncle's habits before he's even a year old. It's almost lunch time, and he should fix them some food, but he doesn't want to get up.

"Un, ununun, un-ca!" Louie cries out suddenly, patting Scrooge's bill when he doesn't look at him immediately. He smiles at the boy, looking from where Dewey had joined Huey in pacing to him.

"Ay, Llewelyn, what do yew want?" He asks, wincing when the boy starts tugging on the feathers of his arms.

"Hey, donae do that, lad." He tells him, pulling his hand away. The clock says it's time to feed them lunch, so he sighs and climbs to his feet. Now, how is he going to get all three of them into the kitchen without leaving one of them alone? Well, Huey can walk fairly well without holding onto anything, even if he is wobbly. Yeah, that'll work. He scoops Dewey up, who squeals at the sudden movement.

"C'mon Hubert, time for lunch." He tells the third chick, relieved when he follows him into the kitchen without further prompting. He gets them into their seats without much trouble. As much as they seem to have inherited their family's penchant for mischief, they still haven't caused many problems.  He guesses he's lucky, that they aren't like his sisters were when they were young. 

 

* * *

 

Children grow too fast, Donald has decided. It seems like just yesterday he brought the triplets home, and yet here they are, already a year old. He can barely believe it. Yet, somebody's missing, and as much as he doesn't want to linger on it with them around, it's all he can think about. 'Della, why did you have to leave? You should be here for them.' He thinks, watching the three topple over each other. 'I was never supposed to be the parent here. That was always you." His thoughts trail off as Dewey is toddling towards him, arms outstretched to be picked up. He picks him up, smiling when Louie whines at that, reaching out for him. The green-clad triplet always wants to be with his brothers, and Donald can't deny that it's endearing. Meanwhile Huey stays where he is, lining the toy cars Goofy had brought by on his last visit. He won't pretend to understand it, but it soothes his nephew to line them up just right, and he's hardly one to complain about a calm infant.

"Curse me kilt!" He hears from the kitchen. followed by a piercing clatter. He frowns, glancing at Huey before going to the kitchen, still carrying the other two ducklings.

"What did you do, Scrooge?" He probes, looking at the man, who's surrounded by pans and sitting on the floor.

"Ye don't have a single good cake pan, what're yew doing?" The irritated man asks, sounding more put out than necessary. 

"Not making cakes?" He replies, shifting Dewey so he can't antagonize his brother.

"That doesn't mean ye shouldn't have the pans to do it!" Scrooge complains, piling the pans into neat stacks and climbing to his feet.

"Okay. Well, I know I've got pans that will work, if you don't want to use them I'll make the cake later." He sighs, tilting his chin away from Louie, who was trying to tug at the feathers there again.

"Nay, ay'm going to do it! Don't ye go trying to stop me!" Is the response he gets, Scrooge mischievously glaring at him from across the tiny room. It's a way he hasn't acted recently, while he's been busy convincing his board not to cut funding to anything. It's stressful, and he's been too tired to act like his old self during it.

"Okay, okay. I should get back to Huey before he tries to eat his cars." He calls over his shoulder, stepping back over to the boy, the two in his arms finally settling in. Sure enough, he's got a car halfway to his mouth, other hand still fitting a different one into line. Giving him a stern look, Donald pulls the car away, relaxing minutely when the action doesn't end in a screaming fit. He does jump, though, when there's a knock on the door. Dewey squawks, trying to crawl out of his arms when he holds onto him tightly on reflex. He places him onto the floor, not surprised when Louie clings more to him to avoid being put down. He sighs, going to open the door. It's Goofy, by himself for once. He must have left Max at home with his wife.

"Just came by to drop off our present for 'em, then I gotta get home for dinner." His friend informs, holding out three appropriately color coded boxes. He takes them, balancing them on one wing and trying not to drop them.

"I'll be there Saturday for the party, see you then?" Goofy asks, fiddling with his keys.

"Yeah, see you then. Get home to your family, alright?" He teases, watching him leave. Most of their group is gone now, spread out across the world, but he's glad to have at least one friend close by. Even if they don't get the chance to spend much time together, what with being busy with their own lives. It's the fact that he's there that counts. He closes the door, hurrying over to the couch to drop the boxes onto it. Or, well, he does try not to just drop them, and place them down instead. He keeps his other wing wrapped  around Louie, dropping onto the couch next to the presents after. Sleep, that sounds good. He'll have to grab a nap once he puts the triplets down for theirs. Louie is already trying to nod off on his chest, and he can see Dewey yawning from where he's sitting. The only one who doesn't seem tired is Huey, who's content to stay where he is. He smiles a little, watching the two on the floor play. 

He's torn away from his thoughts by Huey getting up and toddling over to him, leaning on his knee. That means it's for sure naptime now, if even he's acting tired. He scoops up the red-wearing chick, balancing the two as he walks over and adds Dewey to his arms. He goes to put them onto his bed, cracking his back after. He really needs to move out of here into some place larger. His nephews can't live like this forever, and he knows it. But that's a thought for after he sleeps. 

 

* * *

 

Louie says his first full word on a rainy fall day, tucked onto the couch while his brothers are on the floor. Well. Donald guess neither of the two words are technically full, but he certainly got the point across. What a milestone. 

"Unca'! Unca! Dow!" Louie cries out, pointing down at the other two. Donald almost doesn't register it for a second, just going to help him down to the floor, but then he realizes. 

"You- that was your first word!" He whispers, staring at the boy. His nephew just stares up at him, then points back at his brothers, not understanding the significance. 

"Say that again?" He tries cautiously, staring at him. He only gets a stare back, and then he's pointing at his brothers again. Donald sighs, helping him to the floor and sitting back down. Kids grow up to fast. He wishes they'd stay little like this forever. But he can't stop them from growing up, and he's painfully aware of it. He should just try to enjoy spending time with them now, he knows.  He tugs his camcorder off the table, turning it on and towards the boys. If he can't keep them like this forever, recording it can't hurt. Maybe he can catch Louie speaking again. If he doesn't, oh well. He's still got wonderful video of his boys. 

 

* * *

 

Toddlers are exhausting, and Gladstone has no idea how his cousin and uncle do this. Frankly, he thinks he'd go insane in their place. Children just aren't his...thing. Granted, these ones seem to...like him, for whatever reason, but that doesn't mean he's any good with them. And now he's left here watching them because the other two adults caring for them both have jobs. But he's Gladstone, lucky Gladstone Gander, who's never had to work a day in his life, and never will have to. He's not complaining, he's perfectly happy with it, but he can tell how mad it makes his family. There's no winning, he's pretty sure. At least the triplets aren't judging him yet. It won't last though, he's sure. 

"Right, green bean? You'll learn to hate my luck just like your uncles, won't you?" He asks Louie, letting him balance himself on his lap. The kid babbles at him, busy trying to figure out walking. And he doesn't stop looking over to make sure his brothers are still okay. Sure enough they are, Dewey still contained for once in a bouncer and Huey content to play mostly by himself. He's not sure how the three of them are so easily contained, because he knows he and his cousins were never this easily pacified as infants. Not complaining though, once again. The thing is, though, for once this isn't just his luck making everything ridiculously easy. They're like this for the others, too. That's what gets him. Everything he's heard about kids means they should be, you know, trouble. But whatever. It isn't his problem, he doesn't know why he's even sparing it a passing thought. 

"Huh? Louie, if you want down, don't just throw yourself." He says, helping the kid to the floor. He's by his brothers in an instant, and he realizes why the boy had done it. Dewey had fallen asleep in his seat, and for the youngest triplet that equalled nap time. Well, Donald had said once one of them fell asleep the others followed. He picks Dewey up, hoping Louie won't do anything while he gets his brother settled. He doesn't understand how his cousin just hauls around all three of them, he can barely carry around one kid without thinking he's going to drop them. Donald is something else. 

Somehow he gets all of them tucked in and sleeping, but when he goes out to the living room there's a knock on the door followed by a free car. That's the third one this week. He doesn't want it, definitely doesn't need it, but he takes the keys anyway, promising to retrieve it later. Whether or not his family actually trusts him here with the triplets, he's hardly going to wander off and leave them alone. Gladstone is many things, but he does care. Or, he tries to force himself to.

 

* * *

 

 

Hebert's discovered anger. Scrooge wishes he hadn't, because his brothers are rapidly picking up on it. The oldest of the triplets must have picked it up from Donald, because he starts sounding like him and jumping around like his uncle does when he really loses it. The lad's doing it right now, squalling his head off. Sure enough, Dewey starts screaming to, and then the two are crawling all over each other, making Llewelyn look scared. He pulls Dewey away, the less flailing of the two, rocking him back and forth. Huey should probably be let to cry it out, he thinks.

"Shush lad, nothing's wrong. Yer fine, ye know? Shush lad, shush lad." He mumbles, trying to be calming. He hasn't had to deal with a squalling babe in well over a hundred years, he's beyond rusty at this. Llewelyn starts crying and he groans, still trying to calm down Dewford. He'd been hoping to bring them to the bin later today, but he can't do that if they're still freaked out. Finally Huey's screams subsided to whimpers, and like a switch Dewey stops too. Well, okay. He can't even say he's surprised after to see Huey start acting like he's trying to calm the green clad lad down. Must have picked it up from Donald and Scrooge himself. He sits down next to them, letting Dewey sit in his lip. He isn't surprised when he ends up with the other two there too, Llewelyn babbling occasionally comprehensible words. 

"The three of yew ready to go? Ye were supposed to leave the house ta-day, and we 'oud go out for dinner with yer uncles after Donald's done with 'is job." He reminds himself more than them, wincing when one of them pulls on his sideburns. 

"Unca, Unca, Unca!" Louie chirps, one hand slapping at Huey, who let himself be taken away from tugging on his Uncle's sideburns. 

"Yes, ye are goin' to see yer uncle Donald later." He answers, huffing when Dewey tries to climb over his brothers. 

"Do nae do that, lad. Ye'll hurt yer brothers." He says semi sternly, looking towards the clock that says it's really getting on time to leave. They should get on that. All three of them are calm now, he'll probably be able to get them into the car and to the bin without any major obstacles. 

He probably shouldn't have said that. He'd gotten the lads in the car, sure enough, but there was road work and an accident between them and the bin. His chauffeur huffed, looking scared when he asked how long the trip would take. Really, you'd think she thought he'd fire her on the spot! He had more compusure than people gave him credit for, honestly. The same...could not be said for Huey, who was screeching again. With a sigh, Scrooge rolled the divider up to save the driver's ears. 


End file.
